


Moving On

by B1nary_S0lo



Series: Aylwen Lavellan [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Desk Sex, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Coital Cuddling, Self-Esteem Issues, Smut, Tender Sex, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:18:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8117902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B1nary_S0lo/pseuds/B1nary_S0lo
Summary: Cullen and Aylwen reach a turning point in their relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

Cullen looked up from the report he was writing, dismayed to see that it was already dark outside. He sighed and pressed a hand into his temple, hoping to relieve the pounding in his head. He’d been working at his desk almost non-stop since early that morning, and now it was nearly time for the meeting he’d scheduled. He clearly wouldn’t be getting a break today.

There had been many days like this since their return from Orlais. Contrary to what Aylwen had thought back at the Winter Palace, the members of the Inquisition were busy as they’d ever been. Busier, even.

Cullen, especially, felt the strain. Along with his already increased duties he had the added responsibility of preparing for their assault on Corypheus’ army. Every day, there were meetings to attend, double orders of troop inspections, and pages upon pages of reports to write. Normally he wouldn’t have minded, but he missed Aylwen. He’d had at most snatches of time with her lately, and it wasn’t enough.

With a yawn and a back-cracking stretch, he rose and walked slowly over to one of the darkened windows. He gazed out into the night, though he wasn’t really looking at anything. Even now, his thoughts kept drifting back to dancing with her at the Winter Palace. Drifting back to the way her body had felt, pressed against his. To the scent of her hair, and the way she’d smiled at him at the end of the night. _We might actually make it home alive,_ she’d said.

He furrowed his brow, and he felt his chest tighten with anxiety. That was the other thing he couldn’t stop thinking about—what she’d said.

_We might actually make it home alive._

She was right. With the Inquisition gaining so much ground over Corypheus, things had changed. They _might_ all get out of this alive, and if that happened, what would happen to the two of them?

His frown deepened, hand moving as ever to rub the back of his neck. When, he wondered, had he started to think in terms of “them?”

A knock on the door made him jump. He turned around and almost said her name, before he remembered that it was likely just the recruits arriving for the meeting. He cleared his throat.

“Come in.”

 

When Aylwen walked into Cullen’s office that night, a meeting was already in progress. She closed the door quietly and rested her back against the stone wall. She didn’t mind. With the way things had been lately, she hadn’t expected him to be free.

Besides, she loved watching him work. He stood at his desk with the recruits gathered around him, and he was all sweeping, decisive gestures, voice strong and clear as he issued orders and explained tactics to the soldiers present. It made her happy, in a way she couldn’t explain, to see him in his element, so much more confident than he was around her. She covered her smile with her hand.

She’d missed him lately, so much that she felt it physically as an ache somewhere between her throat and her chest. It was getting more and more difficult to be apart from him, and that worried her. It was a worry that she tried her best to ignore and push down. There was really no point in thinking about the future and the choice she knew she’d have to make someday. Better just to enjoy things as they were now. She kept her eyes on him, nibbling at her knuckles nervously.

“In the meantime,” Cullen was saying, “we’ll send soldiers to—”

He looked up, noticed her, and seemed to falter.

“—a-assist,” he said stumblingly. “With the relief effort.”

In spite of her anxiety, Aylwen grinned when she met his eyes, and he returned the smile. His expression was tender, almost childlike. Her heart beat faster. Much as she loved how he was when he was working, she loved this side of him too.

“That will be all,” he said, ending the meeting. But he was looking at her, not his men, when he said it.

With that, the recruits started to file out of the office, passing her as they did. Some acknowledged her with a nod or a murmured, “My lady,” while others, to her amusement, embarrassedly pretended not to see her. Even as Inquisitor, she was aware of how quickly word of her and Cullen’s relationship had spread. She knew, also, that most in Skyhold assumed they were already sleeping together. She wondered what they would think if they knew the truth.

When the last soldier was out of the room, Cullen shut the door behind them. He leaned into the door, shoulders slumped and face downcast. He sighed heavily.

“There’s always something more, isn’t there?” he said.

“Long day?” she said.

He gave another sigh, and ran a hand across his hair. He smiled briefly at her.

“I shouldn’t complain,” he said.

He straightened, and walked distractedly to the other side of the room. Aylwen could tell by the set of his shoulders, and especially by the fact that he wasn’t looking at her, that something was bothering him. She watched him, frowning.

“This war won’t last forever,” he said. “When it started, I hadn’t considered much beyond our survival. But things are different, now.”

He looked back at her over his shoulder. His face was half hidden behind his fur collar, brow furrowed. She came away from her place by the wall and walked over to him.

“What do you mean?” she said, stopping beside him.

“I find myself wondering what will happen, when all this is over,” he said. He turned fully toward her, moved closer. “I won’t want to move on.”

He reached out, eyes warm, and gently ran a hand across her cheek.

“Not from you,” he said.

Aylwen’s eyes widened, and through the tenderness she felt for him right then, the worry was stronger than ever. She stood as if paralyzed, and didn’t respond to his touch.

His smile faded. He moved his hand away, turned his gaze toward the ground.

“But I…” he said, “I don’t know what you… That is… _if_ you…”

He fumbled, and as he spoke he moved to his desk and stood hunched over it. She moved closer, concerned, craning her neck to see what he was doing, and she realized that he was shuffling the papers that lay there to avoid meeting her eyes.

She opened her mouth, closed it, and in that moment her heart overflowed with warmth for this ridiculous, infuriating, wonderful man. Suddenly, terrifyingly, everything was different.

She came to stand beside him. Laid her hand over his, forcing him to stop what he was doing, and slid herself between him and the desk. Anything to get him to stop avoiding her gaze because of what she might say. She just needed to be closer to him.

“Cullen,” she said. She smiled, softly. “Do you need to ask?”

He blinked. Slowly, realization seemed to dawn on his face.

“I suppose not,” he said. His voice was soft, disbelieving. He moved toward her, and as he did she sat down and scooted back across the desk to allow him nearer. He reached for her.

“I want—” he said.

Aylwen moved back further, and bumped something with her elbow. She gasped as a bottle that had been resting on Cullen’s desk fell to the floor and shattered with a loud crash.

They both paused, looked down at the shards of glass on the floor. She turned back to him, an apology on her lips, but before she could say it he grinned. He shook his head.

He stepped back, and with a large, decisive gesture, swept books, papers, everything, off the desk and onto the floor. Aylwen barely had time to be shocked, though, because he was already climbing up onto the desk. Eagerly, she scooted back and allowed him to move on top of her, push her down so that her back met the surface of the table. She reached up to cradle his face and pull him, smiling, into a kiss.

 

As with their first kiss, none of what happened that night was planned. Cullen had been so overcome by everything—by amazement, by the rush of affection he felt for her—that he didn’t consider what they were doing until they were already kissing atop the desk. Until his hand was already cupping her breast and she was gasping into his mouth as he rolled his hips against hers.

With difficulty, an almost physical effort, he pulled slightly away from her and paused so that he could look down at her. Her eyes were closed, mouth open and back arched to expose her reddening neck. He felt himself harden, almost painfully, at the sight. But he stayed still.

Her eyes flickered open, and she looked up in confusion.

“Why did you stop?” she said.

The tone in her voice alone was enough to make him lose control, but he wouldn’t keep going. Not until he was sure.

“I need to make sure you’re all right,” he said. He had to clear his throat. “The last few times—”

She reached up to cup his face again. “I don’t want to stop this time,” she said.

He laid his hands, shaking, over hers.

“Are you sure?” he said. “If you’re saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear, I—”

“No,” she said. “I won’t lie to you about that again. Ever.”

Her gaze was clear, and he could see the certainty in her eyes. He reached down, fingers sliding across her cheek.

“Then let’s keep going,” he said softly.

She smiled. She guided his hand back down to her breast and moved under him. He groaned, breath coming in gasps, and she gave a small cry as he pressed against her. They’d barely begun, but he wasn’t sure he was going to last long at this rate.

Unwilling to take any chances, he reached between their bodies, felt for his belt buckle and slid his trousers down his waist to free his cock. He heard her breath hitch. She shifted under him, sliding her own clothes out of the way as well.

He paused again, breathing hard, and pressed his forehead into hers. He closed one hand around his cock, and used the other hand to brace himself against the desk.

“Are you sure?” he said.

He was surprised he could even get words out, but she nodded and breathed, “Yes.”

“All right,” he said.

He leaned down, kissed her again. Then he guided himself into her opening.

She moaned, right into his ear, as he settled inside her, a sound which mixed with his own. He felt her panting beneath him, chest rising and falling and breath warm against his face, even though he hadn’t begun to move yet. He pressed his forehead against hers once more, breath mixing with hers, just lying with her and letting her get used to the feeling of him inside her. Then, slowly, gently, he began to move.

He braced his hands against the surface of the desk, breath coming in hot gasps, as she writhed underneath him. Her cries were perfection, her warmth around him better than he’d ever imagined. Her lips were beside his ear as she urged him to keep going, right there, oh, Cullen— He picked up speed, but already he was starting to lose himself. But he had to focus, had to keep going until—

He felt her tightening around him. She gave another cry, and it was then that he let himself go, moaning her name and then finally falling, bonelessly, on top of her.

For a moment they just lay there, breathing hard, his lips against her throat and her hands in his sweat-soaked curls. Then he shifted, carefully pulled out of her and, burying fingers in her braided hair, tilted her head back to kiss her. Her lips moved lazily.

After a moment, he pulled back so he could see her. Her cheeks had a rosy glow, and bits of her curly hair had come loose. He brushed the loose strands out of her face, and sighed. She’d never looked so beautiful.

“Aylwen,” he said softly, “do you want to stay here tonight?”

She blinked her eyes open, stretched, and grinned. He’d been wrong. At _this_ moment, she looked more beautiful than ever before.

“I want to,” she said softly.

Cullen was lightheaded, and everything, from the sight of her flushed face to the feel of her under him, was vague and dreamlike. He leaned down and kissed her again to remind himself that this was real. Her lips curled into a smile against his.


	2. Chapter 2

Eventually, they made their way upstairs. Aylwen was first up the ladder, first to pull herself over the last rung and into the loft where Cullen slept. She turned in place, giddy and light as a feather, and looked all around the small, plain room. She noticed the books piled in the corner, the simple bed, the ivy growing up along the stone wall, and—

“Cullen?” she called down the ladder. A laugh, half from amusement, half from concern, bubbled in her chest. “You do know there’s a hole in your roof, don’t you?”

She heard him climbing up the last few rungs of the ladder, then watched as he pulled himself into the loft. He rubbed the back of his neck, bashful, and came over.

“Yes, I know, it’s—” He sighed. “Is it all right?”

She turned to face him.

“It’s a little cold,” she said. She glanced once more at the hole in the roof and the moonlight filtering through it. She turned back to him. “But, I like it.”

He smiled. He reached out, rested his hands on her waist, and drew her in. She threw her arms around his neck, standing almost on tiptoe to reach him.

Suddenly, he leaned back and wrapped his arms tightly around her middle. She squealed as her feet left the ground and she held on tight to his neck, pulled her legs up to wrap around his waist.

Stumbling a bit, he carried her over to the bed and set her down. She eagerly slid back across the covers, pulling him down after her. Her head met the back of the bed, and she sighed as his weight settled on top of her and his lips met hers once more.

Still kissing him, she moved her hands to his shoulders and tugged at his mantle. He seemed to realize what she was doing, because he shrugged it off and let it fall to the floor. But even with it gone, her fingers scrabbled uselessly against the gauntlets covering his arms and the metal covering his chest. She broke their kiss.

“Can you, um, can you take all that off?” she said.

He pulled back, grinned. He planted a kiss on her forehead before he climbed off the bed.

“If you insist,” he said, straightening.

She propped herself up on her elbows to watch, head still buzzing. He removed the fabric that covered his chest plate, then took off his gloves before he set about unbuckling his gauntlets. Aylwen watched carefully, trying to figure out how it was done.

“That seems complicated,” she said as he set the gauntlets aside. He looked up and grinned again.

“It’s not that difficult,” he said. He began loosening his chest plate. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

She bit her lip and let the words “you’ll get the hang of it” buzz around in her brain.

He finished removing his chest plate. Now, he was down to just a shirt and breeches. A whimper caught in her throat at the sight of the golden chest hair she could see poking through the top of his cotton shirt. Watching him get undressed was exciting, but so, so slow.

She sat up, slid to the edge of the bed. She reached out and beckoned him toward her. Once he was close, her hands slid under his shirt, and he helped her get it over his head.

Aylwen felt another whimper in her throat, and her head spun at the sight of him standing shirtless before her. She reached out, looked up at him questioningly, and when she saw him nod she lay hands on his chest. She ran her palms down the smooth, firm lines of his muscles and through his downy hair. She felt him shudder at her touch. Her hands settled at his waist, and she looked up at him again.

“I’ve never seen so many muscles on one person,” she said solemnly.

He shook with laughter, and she felt it beneath her palms. He leaned down and cupped her face, expression warm.

“What?” she said. There was a laugh in her voice as well.

“You’re just…” he shook his head. “You’re just so…”

He shook his head again, sighed. Instead of finishing the sentence, he tilted her head back to kiss her once more. Her eyes closed.

Aylwen tightened her grip on his waist and slid her hands down to meet the fabric of his trousers. He gasped as her fingers threaded beneath his waistband. She felt him shift as, still kissing her, he shrugged the trousers off and stepped out of them. He pushed her, once more, down onto the bed.

She gasped happily, fingers exploring the lines of his shoulders and back as he sank down to meet her. She loved being able to actually touch him without being blocked by layers of fabric and armor, to feel him respond to her touch. In turn, he moved against her, and his hands slid lovingly along her body. Shudders of her own passed through her as he traced the arch of her back and the curve of her thigh.

“Can you…” He cut himself off, lips on her neck, before continuing. “Can you take all of _this_ off…” Another kiss. She shivered. “…please?”

Her back arched as his lips found her pulse. Somehow, she nodded. He pulled away again—the loss of his warmth was a shock—and she sat up as well.

Cullen sat at the edge of the bed, looking back at her expectantly. Aylwen took in the ripples of his muscles, the perfect curve of his shoulders and chest, and for the first time since before they’d started that evening, she felt a glimmer of anxiety.

She’d never thought of herself as particularly pretty, especially after what had happened with Dylahn. People said she was, but she didn’t really believe them. At any rate, there was no comparison between her and Cullen.

Slowly, she moved her hands to the first clasp on her shirt, but she made no move to undo it. She saw his eyes flicker as she moved, and she was suddenly short of breath. What if he didn’t like what he saw?

“Are you all right?” Cullen said. He leaned a little closer, brow furrowed. Aylwen shook her head and looked down at the bed.

“I’m fine,” she said. Then she remembered her promise not to lie to him again, and added, “I suppose I’m just a bit nervous.”

His gaze softened.

“That’s fine,” he said. He laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezed gently. “We can stop if you need to.”

Even this small, comforting touch made her shudder. Her eyes half closed, and she shook her head. She definitely didn’t want to stop.

Instead, she reached out and lay her hand over his.

“Could you turn around?” she said.

He seemed to pause, but then with a nod he pulled away and did as she said. Once his back was to her she took a deep breath and began undoing her shirt.

It didn’t take her nearly as long to undress as it had taken him. In just a few moments she was naked. She shivered, hugged herself, fully feeling the cold of the room for the first time.

She checked to make sure his back was still turned—he hadn’t moved—then reached up with shaking hands to undo her braids. She never wore her hair down around anyone, so somehow this act seemed far more intimate than removing her clothes had.

After a moment her long hair came free, settling softly around her shoulders and down her back. She coughed and said, “All right. You can look.”

He turned and, at first, she thought he _was_ disappointed. She couldn't read his expression as his eyes traveled slowly down her body, then back up to her face and the waves of curly hair that framed it.

But then their eyes met, and she realized that his expression wasn’t blank at all. She could see molten fire burning in his eyes, and barely contained excitement in the flutter of his throat. Her cheeks grew hot and the ache between her legs grew. No one had ever looked at her that way before, almost worshipful, with such open desire and need. She looked down, then quickly forced herself to look back at his face, lip between her teeth. His face wasn't the only place where she could see his desire for her.

He leaned toward her.

“You’re so…”

His voice was low, rapturous. A match for the fire in his eyes. He reached out, brushed her curtain of hair out of her face. His eyes traveled once more down her body, before lighting on her face again. His fingertips touched her cheek.

“You’re so, so _beautiful_ ,” he said.

Her breath caught in her throat. She leaned in, and at the same time he wrapped his arms around her and pushed her down onto the bed again. He settled over her, kissed her hungrily, tongue in her mouth and fingers exploring the curves of her body. She shivered, over and over, back arching as she tried to pull him closer, to press herself against him as hard as she could. She could feel him everywhere, his skin so warm against hers, but even that wasn't enough.

“Cullen, I…” she said, in the gap between kisses. She gasped. “I need…”

She didn’t need to say anything more. He pressed his lips against her forehead, and his hand traveled down. He shifted, and sparks shot through her as he brushed against her opening. With a grunt, he guided himself inside her.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to push him in deeper. He groaned, hands digging into the sheets beside her head as he began to move. Joyful cries tore their way out of her throat. He was moaning her name, thrusting and sloppily kissing her ears, her neck. It felt even better this time than it had before, better than anything. Stars danced behind her eyes and there was nothing but this, but them. She tried to hold on, to make the moment last as long as possible, but she already felt herself slipping.

“Cullen…” she said, voice strained. “I…”

One last cry tore its way out of her throat, and she shattered, white hot, going limp. A moment later he came with a cry as well, sank down onto her. His whole body shook as he breathed in and out.

Her vision started to clear as the aftershocks faded in pleasant ripples. He nuzzled her neck, and she rested her head against his, stroking his hair with one hand. Gently, she kissed his curls.

“Cullen,” she said softly.

He looked up, eyes warm and adoring. She smiled at him.

“I think you’re beautiful, too,” she said.

 

Much later, the two of them lay together in the near dark. Aylwen’s head rested on Cullen's chest, her arms wrapped around him. Her eyes were closed, but he could tell from her breathing that she was still awake.

He trailed fingers through her long, reddish gold hair, across her smooth skin. He still couldn’t believe that any of this was real, that she was _here_ , so soft beside him. That she wanted to be there with him.

He closed his eyes, feeling himself start to drift off. He was profoundly tired, but it was a full, contented tiredness, the sort he hadn’t known since childhood. He almost imagined he could fall sleep and not be troubled by nightmares at all.

He paused, hand splayed at the base of her back. His eyes opened, and he looked down at her.

“Aylwen?” he whispered.

She shifted. “Hmm?”

“I should warn you,” he said, “I’m not a very sound sleeper. If you want to go back to your room—”

Leaving was the last thing he wanted her to do, but he had to be honest with her. He didn’t want to frighten her if he had a nightmare. But she shook her head, eyes still closed and hair tickling across his chest.

“I want to stay,” she said. Her fingers dug into the hair on his chest. “If that’s all right with you.”

He smiled, moved his hand across her back once more. “It’s very much all right,” he said.

She gave a contented, sleepy sigh, and shifted again.

Cullen watched her doze, studying every detail of her he could make out in the moonlight. He watched the way her lips moved, listened to the soft sound of her breathing, and, all at once the unreality of the evening solidified, clarified, into one single point. One single realization.

He lay back. Dizzy, elated. But he wouldn’t disturb her now. For now, he would just let himself feel it, and let her go on lying beside him. Aylwen. The woman he loved.

 

In the end, Cullen fell asleep before she did. Even with her eyes closed Aylwen remained awake, her mind too abuzz to sleep.

Instead, she propped herself up and studied Cullen's sleeping face. She took in the shape of his mouth, the smoothness of his forehead—all lines of worry invisible in sleep—and the golden ringlets of his hair. She reached out and smoothed loose curls back from his temple. She hadn’t realized, until that night, just how curly his hair was. She smiled.

Shifting, she turned her gaze toward the sky above them. In spite of the night air filtering in with the moonlight, she was so warm, so safe and satisfied. For once she wasn’t worried about not being pretty enough, or about being broken in some way. Not now, anyway. Not tonight.

Aylwen lay back down and settled her cheek against Cullen's chest. As her fingers brushed across his skin, she listened to his heartbeat.

She still remembered the burst of emotion that had made her step between him and the desk. It filled her again at the sound of his heart, at the feel of his chest rising and falling as he breathed. That had been the moment when everything changed. The moment when she knew, with absolute certainty, that she was never going back to her clan.

She clung to him, her throat tight with an emotion that might have been joy, might have been a kind of grief. She pressed a kiss into his collarbone.

“ _Ar lath ma, vhenan,_ ” she whispered.

He shifted slightly, and his arm tightened around her. Aylwen closed her eyes, still awake and listening to his breathing. She stayed that way a long time before sleep finally found her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally finished! ToT This took forever to write.
> 
> This story marks the end of the intimacy arc. I'll probably give these two a bit of a rest for awhile, but there's definitely more to come at some point in the future ^_^


End file.
